


Taint of a Daemon

by poisonous_panda



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: 10 Years of Darkness, F/M, Hallucinations, Hammerhead - Freeform, Insomnia, Lestallum, Psychological Horror, Starscourge, daemon, time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 13:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11082465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonous_panda/pseuds/poisonous_panda
Summary: I've wrote too many lovey dovey Ardyn x Reader fics, have a daemonic nasty Ardyn instead. We all like a bit of daemon Ardyn, but what if he actually developed an interest in you? This is my first time writing horror, so hopefully you like it!





	1. Face to Face

Four years.

Four years of complete darkness.

Four years of being crammed in your tiny apartment with your partner in Lestallum, unable to go anywhere else for fear of the daemons that have taken over Eos.

And your relationship was now showing the strain.

Bickers over petty things blown into huge arguments, sometimes the pair of you even physically hitting one another.

Yet you stayed together, if only because you had been dating for a while and all of your family were now dead. Damn daemons.

But now it’s suffocating. Even being in the apartment alone is too much. You don’t want to be alone, especially with the world being in the sorry state it’s in, but this can’t go on.

Today is no exception. You and your partner have had a pretty brutal argument; both of you now screaming at each other that neither of you feel anything for the other anymore.

In one moment of madness with angry tears streaming down your face, you walk out the front door - forgetting your keys - down the stairs of the apartment complex, out the communal front door and hop on your bicycle. Your partner doesn’t follow.

The ride is going to be a long one, but everyone had been issued with UV lights to put on their cars/bicycles/motorcycles in an attempt to keep daemons away from travellers. So you weren’t too worried.

Especially seeing as you’re nearing Hammerhead now and hadn’t been attacked.

Calf muscles aching and throat burning, you turn into the entrance and wait while the burly Hunters unlocked the massive iron gate for you. Travellers were always welcome amongst the Hunters, and you were given free food and drink to satiate yourself. As you rested up, a pretty blonde mechanic with hardly enough clothes on looked over your bicycle.

You’d been questioned a bit. Where was you going? Are you alone? Are you alright?

You waved off the comments of your red swollen eyes, and just told them you were visiting family. They’d given you a funny a look then tried to convince you to go home - they’d even offered to drive you back to Lestallum themselves - but you were adamant so they gave up trying.

You weren’t the first lost sorry soul to try and pilgrimage back to Insomnia for closure or to pay your respects to dead relatives.

So, now you were fed, watered and rested, you hopped back onto your bicycle and made the rest of the journey to Insomnia.

The way was quiet - the Hunters must have cleared this area recently - and you had no problems reaching, and then going through, the gates of Insomnia.

The city was an absolute shell of it’s former glory.

Skyscrapers cut down to size, debris littering the streets, overturned or crushed cars in all directions.

Cycling past all this, and down a narrow allyway, you make for your childhood home.

The one that’s not there anymore.

Of course it wasn’t. And neither were your parents. You knew that.

But after such a struggling time living with your partner, you felt like this was the only sanctuary you had.

It hadn’t even crossed your mind to question why there were no daemons on the prowl.

Parking your bicycle against a ruined, twisted metal fence, you shiver slightly as you stare at the remains of the house. It looks like a bomb had struck it from the roof, so only the bottom floor and the basic foundations of the house still stood. Made all the more ominous by the darkness enveloping the scenery.

You bow your head slightly, and speak to your parents.

You tell them about the fight you had earlier, how unhappy you had been, how much you missed them both and how lonely you were.

“My my, it seems a flower has bloomed in my forbidden garden.” A velvety voice sings behind you. “Aww, and it’s crying.”.

Such a sensual tone, mocking too. A shiver of fear ripples up your spine.

You turn on the spot and are surprised to see a man standing before you. In honesty you had expected a daemon. A rather tall man, with ruffled red... no crimson?... no more like wine-coloured hair and.... are they... yellow eyes? But he seems normal enough, even if his appearance and presence did startle you.

You wipe your eyes on the back of your hand and give the man a hard stare. He’s a full head above you so your line of sight is at his stubbled chin but you remain defiant regardless.

He saunters closer, his long coat and scarves dancing in the low chill breeze. You take a step back - which he notices - so he stops too. Even holds his hands up in innocence.

You breathe in, ready to question the man’s use of words. Insomnia, his forbidden garden? All anyone back in Lestallum knew was that other towns and cities were closed off due to daemon inhabitation, that’s why you was having trouble believing a real human was standing in front of you now. How could he possibly survive?

He looks at you expectantly, but your words die in your throat under his strange yellow stare. He shakes his head a little, places his hand on his hip and smirks at you.

“I will ask you once again. What is a delicate flower such as you doing in my garden?”

You furrow your brows at him.

“Why are you talking like you own the place?” You spit back at him.

“Oh my dear.... because I do.” His eyes sparkle in delight at your confusion and he closes the gap between you. He’s close, not close enough to touch, but you’re still stuck between him and the twisted fence at your back.

“I heard you talking. Why did you wipe those tears away? They say the eyes are the window to one’s soul after all,” he chuckles slightly, “One would think my soul is full of sunshine what with them being coloured what they are. The irony is not lost on me.”

He chuckles again, and it only added to your confusion.

Suddenly he reaches a hand out and cups your face. Your own hands fly up to grasp his, but any attempt to pull him off was pitiful. He seemed uncharacteristically strong.

He hums in amusement at your struggle, forcing your gaze back to his. The yellow of his irises seems to be burning brighter, but the rest of his eyes were darkening. Was he strangling you so you were blacking out? No... breathing was still normal, if not a bit erratic. You grip his hand tighter as the blackness overspills from his eyes and one side of his mouth. All you could do was stare wide-eyed at him in disbelief and silent terror. He smiles at you.

“Ahh you do not trust me. Just as well. Wouldn’t want your partner getting the wrong idea now would you.” He seems to enjoy how uncomfortable his icy touch is making you, so he leans in and licks the trail of your tears from your cheek up to your eye.

Meeting your gaze for a moment, he then presses a fleeting icy kiss to your lips, and you feel the bitterly cold black ooze stain itself on your chin.

You instantly push away while wiping at your mouth, bashing your back onto the fence behind you, but at least the daemonic stranger had let go.

“I realise you have memories here my dear, but memories decay with time, then eventually die. Yours are dead. Do not return, lest you wish to follow a similar path.” he turns his back on you and waves a hand, “Fair thee well my little flower, off you go. Wouldn’t want the daemons to find you.” And off he saunters into the darkness, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“What on earth...?” You breathe to yourself, relaxing all the muscles in your body as you exhale.

Now the stranger has gone, you feel very much alone. With the panic rising, you grab your bicycle and ride as fast as you can away from the old shell of your childhood home.

What the hell had you been thinking? And where exactly are all the daemons?

In a burst of adrenline, you cycle madly from the outskirts of Insomnia to Hammerhead - back to the safety of the light and the Hunters.

You almost cycle straight in their locked gate, and you must have looked in some kind of state because the Hunters immediately unlocked the iron gate and ushered you inside.

They offer you a soft drink and some chocolate pieces to help calm your shaking. One muscley man with a shaved head and a brown beard admitted he never expected you to return, but he was ‘mighty glad’ you did. Even the scantily clad female mechanic sashayed over to you and embraced you.

“Don’t go worrying us like that again, ya hear?” she chirps at you in a Southern American accent. You smile at her gratefully.

After all of the darkness in Insomnia and that strange man’s icy cold touch, you truly were grateful of the company.

“Right then little lady, let’s get you back to Lestallum.” Dave the Head Hunter clapped his hand on your shoulder. The man had rose to legendary status over these last years; known for both his hunting capabilities and his endless supply of kindness.

The drive back with Dave was one of comfortable silence. You were almost asleep by the time Dave pulled into the driveway of your apartment complex. He helps you out of the truck and watches from the side of his vehicle as you reach the communal front door.

Hunting around in your pockets, you curse under your breath as you realise you don’t have your keys. So now you have no choice but to ring the buzzer of your apartment and hope your partner isn’t mad anymore.

But you needn’t have worried.

The door swings open and your partner pulls you into a crushing embrace. You’re unable to move but you feel your partner raise their hand and wave - presumeably at Dave because after a short moment the sound of an engine revving permeates the air - then your partner fully embraces you once again.

They’re crying. They were so worried about you, couldn’t get ahold of you, nobody had seen you and.... oh Astrals, what the hell is that on your face?

Your partner wipes their thumb across your chin but nothing comes off, so you head upstairs to your apartment’s bathroom and look in the mirror.

On the right side of your chin, is a stained black blot.

That damn daemon had marked you.

So you scrub furiously at it, applying all kinds of shower gels and body scrubs until your skin is red raw and sore. But at least the weird ink was gone.

Your partner tenderly kisses your sore skin, and you both apologise for the argument several hours earlier. You still hadn’t told anyone about that daemon man, and honestly didn’t feel up to reliving the harrowing experience.

Instead you cuddle up on the couch with your partner and numb your mind by watching some TV until it was time for bed.

Maybe things might improve at home now. Hopefully your parents had answered your prayer.


	2. To Dream a Dream in a Dream

Your first thought in the morning was something along the lines of “Ouch!”.

You’d woke up with a headache, not a crippling one, but a dull ache nonetheless.

Your partner tried to be supportive, but quickly lost their patience with you while you were laying in your darkened bedroom with your arm across your face.

Maybe that late trip to Insomnia yesterday was a bad idea considering the state you had worked yourself up into. You put it down to a bug and exhaustion.

Your partner was in the other room reading a book. At least they had the decency to keep the TV off so it was nice and quiet. However it was really hot. The joys of living in Lestallum near the Astral Meteor.

It wasn’t long before you had nodded off to sleep.

You were back in the ruined Insomnia. It was still dark, but this time there were daemons about.

You’d just turned a corner and come face-to-face with a giant snake that had a grotesquely feminine face.

“Himmmmm.” she drawls at you.

On instinct your spin around and run from her.

Faster and faster, your surroundings passing in a blur, you run away from the daemon snake.

Sliding around a corner you glance over your shoulder to see if she was still slithering after you, only to smack straight into the back of a samurai clad in yellow robes. You sprawl on the floor looking up at him, hoping that you’ve found a Hunter to get you back to Lestallum, but as he turns to look at you over his shoulder you see the flesh on his face is all twisted and scarred.

“Return.” he tells you curtly, his hand grasping at the sword handle in its sheath on his hip.

Yet another daemon. And this one’s armed!

You spring to your feet and run past his blindside further down the alleyway. Luckily you don’t hear footsteps behind you so you hope he isn’t following you.

On and on you run, but it never seems fast enough. Finally you get where you was instinctively going - your old childhood home.

You can see it there at the end of the street, lights blazing through the windows, connoting safety and warmth from this hell on the streets. If you can just get there...

You push yourself harder to run, your feet are connecting with the pavement but you’re going too slow. You don’t look behind you but instinct tells you you’re being chased.

On and on and on you run, finally you’re at the gate!

Hopping over it you make up the garden path and the front door slowly swings open in time with your approach.

In one last burst of effort, you dart through the door.

Straight into the icy embrace of the smirking wine-haired man with his black bleeding face and eerie yellow eyes.

You wake up screaming, head pounding so furiously you feel like your eyeballs will pop out of their sockets.

Your partner comes running in and pulls the covers off you as you’re getting yourself tangled up. Sweat’s stained the bed and you needed to be forcefully shaken out of your hysteria.

As you come around, you glance up at your partner and pull them into a gross sweat-covered hug. They gently peel you off, and tenderly suggest you shower. It might help with the headache too. So you do as you’re told.

Stripping off your sopping nightwear, you get into the warm shower and wash the nightmare from your mind. Massaging shampoo into your hair did indeed ease the headache to nothing but a minor ache.

You get out and towel yourself dry, then make to the sink to brush your teeth.

Spitting out the toothpaste you scratch your chin. Your fingers feel caked in something too thick to be water.

Looking down at them, you see they’re coated in a black inky substance and glancing into the mirror your worst fears are confirmed.

You stare in disbelief at your reflection. There’s a small black rash on the right side of your chin oozing the black ink. But that’s not the worst of it.

It was also spilling out from your eyes and the side of your mouth, as if that goo was what was clogging your head up and making it hurt.

Over your shoulder was the wine-haired man from the nightmare, his face an oozing mess just like yours and his laughter rips through the confined space of the bathroom.

Jolting awake, you quickly glance around your bedroom to see your partner dozing peacefully beside you. You’re not covered in sweat like you first thought either. So you quickly jump out of bed and make for the bathroom mirror.

No goo or rash on your face either.

Chuckling to yourself unsteadily, it was just a nightmare. You wash your face and brace yourself against the counter. After a few deep breaths, you decide to go back to bed.

The other alternatives were to either stay up and risk waking your partner or have a shower; the latter of which you really didn’t want to do.

Settling back down under the thin covers, you snuggle into your partner’s back and try to push the daemon man’s laughter from your mind as you try to go back to sleep.

You can dwell on this more tomorrow morning when your alarm went off. Just because there’s no sunlight doesn’t mean the population wasn’t going to stick to the original daylight savings times.


	3. Cakes and Mirrors

It turns out there must not be an afterlife.

Your parents mustn’t have heard your prayer from a few nights ago.

Things have gone from bad to worse at home.

You and your partner were bickering more than ever. And they now think you’ve been unfaithful.

It was all because, one day when this chronic headache of yours was at a manageable level, you had decided to prepare a gift basket for the Hunters out at Hammerhead.

Not only had they helped you before and after you entered Insomnia, not only had they ensured you had a safe ride back to Lestallum once you recovered, but they hadn’t pushed you for information about what happened while you were in the dead city and they had also sent someone round to check if you were alright in the days after your visit. Also... you would never admit this.... but it was nice to meet some other people instead of staying in this apartment suffocating, so you just wanted to reach out and stay in touch.

You had hid your headaches and recurring nightmares from the spritely young blonde who played messenger boy. He seemed to have a heart of gold - as most Hunters did - and such a sunny disposition you didn’t want to ruin it. He also seemed to have such a kooky fashion sense - leopard print skinny-fit trousers, black boots with a white trim, a simple black vest with white lines criss-crossing and a sleeveless jacket he had clearly customised with patches, spraypaint and a half-tarten kilt sewn to the back. Quite the memorable character.

The lanky lad was very friendly to you and your partner, and when you had mentioned wanting to bring them back at gift his eyes widened in happiness. But of course he tried to talk you out of it. As flattering as it was, he and the others saw themselves as volunteers rather than a proper police force, so they wanted no payment. Only after you had insisted over and over again had the young man accepted your offer with a nervous scratch to the back of his head. His only condition was that you took his mobile number and called him when you wanted to deliver it so either he or someone else would come and pick you up so you had a safe journey.

Prompto Argentum, he had introduced himself as.

You wave him goodbye as he leaves your front door, smiles all round. You had originally inquired how he would fare going back to Hammerhead alone in the dark but he just pulled his dual pistols out and with a wink told you not to worry about him. You couldn’t help but laugh at his infectious enthusiasm.

Well.... at least until the door was shut.

Your partner had always been the jealous type, but never this bad. You had put their tantrums down to the terrible living conditions you both shared. After all you were guilty of losing your temper over stupid things too.

But now they were accusing you of sleeping with one of the Hunters. Why else would you have walked out the other night during that argument and not taken your keys unless you didn’t plan on coming back? Why else had this young blonde Prompto come to your apartment?

You tried to tell them they were acting crazy, Prompto himself had mentioned how the Hunters had seen you shaken up after going to Insomnia. But your partner wasn’t having it and stormed out. Probably going to Adamantoise’s Paradise near the marketplace to drown their sorrows.

At this point in time you didn’t care. It gave you time to work on your gift basket.

You happily spent the evening baking a huge batch of cookies, muffins, making little chocolate shaped stars and moons. The kitchen smelt absolutely divine and you were proud about how your treats were turning out.

Placing the treats in catagorised tuppenware boxes to keep them sealed for freshness, you hunt around for a larger container - preferably the ugly wicker basket you had got one birthday but never used, if only so you can now honourably get rid of it - so you can carry it all easily.

Finding it stashed at the top of your wardrobe you make your way back to the kitchen but a knock at the door catches your attention. Maybe your partner had come back. Maybe.... maybe Prompto had come back, or worse was hurt and it’d be all your fault!

Rushing to the door you fling it open.

Nobody there.

Huh... maybe it was a trick of your imagination. Stooping down to pick the basket up again you head the kitchen and put the tuppenware boxes neatly into it. You were feeling very proud of yourself.

But as you leaned over to admire your handiwork in the basket, some black drops landed on the lids of the tuppenware boxes. In a quick panic you smear your hand across your face and look at your palm.

It’s covered in that ooze.

You let out a small scream and step away from the counter. But in the blink of your eyes the ooze vanishes from your hand. Looking into the basket, there’s no black drops in there either.

Tap tap.

There’s that knock again.

Huffing to yourself, you march back to the front door and open it.

Nobody there.

Was there someone thinking this was funny?!

Wait.... there’s that knock again.

And it’s coming from... inside.

You turn on your heel and look back down your hallway.

Tap tap tap it goes.

Closing the front door behind you, you walk further into your apartment.

Suddenly a rational thought springs to mind. Maybe a bird or something is stuck on your window sill? So you set off looking out of all the windows in your small apartment.

Nope. Nothing.

Tap tap tap.

It’s more impatient now.

You make your way to the main hall of your apartment and listen. You didn’t have to wait long.

Tap tap tap tap tap.

It’s coming from....... the bathroom.

Slowly making your way to the closed door, you gingerly push it open.

Of course there’s nobody there. Your nerves are shot.

As you go to turn-

“How long must I wait, little flower?” That sickly sweet voice again, one that’s haunted your nightmares since Insomnia.

Spinning on the spot you scan the bathroom again.

There’s that daemonic stranger. No goo on his face this time though. If he didn’t repulse you, you would have almost said he was handsome.

But he wasn’t in the bathroom. No.

He was inside the mirror!

You scream and run out the front door into the stairwell of your apartment complex.

What? How? What?!

There’s nothing you could do about the man. What could you do? You’ve had no combat training. But you know someone who has.

And now you were regretting not telling him about the headaches or the nightmares.

Shakily pulling your mobile phone from your pocket, you dial Prompto’s number.


	4. Diagnosis and Decisions

Prompto came as quick as he could. He had only made it to Duscae on foot when you called him, so he had called Dave and got him to drive them both back to Lestallum.

He found you a shaky mess at the bottom of the apartment complex stairs and embraced you in a warm friendly hug.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Hang tight I’ll check for intruders!”

He smiles at you as he pulls out one of his guns and makes his way up the stairs. Giving little regard to your front door, the young gunslinger kicks it down and covers your whole apartment in a matter of minutes with his gun drawn ahead of him.

Dave is crouching with you on the floor and has wrapped a thick blanket around you. He was more the silent type compared to Prompto so he just crouched there with a hand on your shoulder while his gaze was fixed at the top of the flight of stairs.

Prompto makes his way casually downstairs.

“Nothing in there. Could daemons be playing tricks? Or...” then Prompto gives you a sad stare.

Before you could question that look, your partner comes stumbling home through the open communal front door and sees you on the floor.

In their drunken state, rather than inquire as to your welfare, they begin to shout a tirade of abuse at the three of you. Now they are convinced you were unfaithful and that you had been playing them for an idiot. The blind rage in their voice unmistakeable as it peaks.

Prompto - ever the mediator - tries to calm your partner down but makes the mistake of getting too close, earning a hard shove that nearly made him lose his balance.

Dave stands up to intervene but your partner is already on their way up the stairs, hurling abuse at the three of you all the while. You all just stare at each other speechless at the unexpected turn of events as the sound of someone descending the stairs catches your attention.

Your partner had come down and threw the wicker basket of treats at you then stomped back off.

You decided not to follow and began gathering the tuppenware boxes up. They had come out of the wicker basket but thankfully all the lids stayed on so no food was damaged. Prompto and Dave stoop down to help you. Dave avoids eye contact with you all and is gently shaking his head while Prompto gives you a small but sweet smile; one which you genuinely return. 

After gathering the treats, you both silently set out to the truck in the car park. You no longer care for returning to the apartment or - at this moment in time - reconciling with your partner. You had both been unhappy together for ages anyway.

The drive to Hammerhead was quiet. No surprise from Dave, but it was difficult for Prompto. He settled for occasionally fidgiting and, when he saw your sad expression, held your own hand in his reassuringly.

You felt your heart lighten at the sight of the approaching Hunter’s Headquarters, grateful for the light and the company. Once the three of you had made your way inside what used to be Takka’s Diner, you distributed the tuppenware boxes which put the Hunters in a very jovial mood. All the treats were shared out equally, many thanks were given your way and there was no doubt about how grateful they were. The touching scene wouldn’t have been out of place in a pub - just a big group of friends sharing a good experience.

As everything settled down, Dave took you by the shoulder and directed you to where some benches were pushed against the inside of the window.

He had a stern look but his words were gentle. He asked if you wanted to talk about what happened with your partner but you shook your head. You had been dealing with the unhappiness for so long now it became second nature to close it off. So instead he questions you about your hallucinations.

You admit the nightmares and headaches to him. You leave out about meeting the dashing daemon man and his archaic manner of speaking because you did not deem it relevant enough to relive. If you were honest with yourself.... you just didn’t want to think about him.

Dave is silent for a moment with his chin resting on his fingers. Then he gets up and retrieves a book to show you.

“I think, little lady, you’re ill. But we want to help.” Ever the kind gentleman, he hands you the book.

It seems the Starscourge of legend that everyone is familiar with has been broken down more scientifically - it seems to be a mutated strain of plasmodium malariae that twists men into monsters - the name was completely unfamiliar to you. Dave was watching you for a reaction but in honesty you felt completely detatched from the situation. 

You told Dave you needed some air, and after reassuring the worrying older man that you won’t leave the compound, you stalk out of Takka’s Diner.

Wandering past the other Hunters talking amongst themselves - you all share gracious waves to each other - you head for the stands of scaffolding at the other end of the compound. Climing up, you felt like a kid again in a climbing frame. Finding a high bench that must be used by the Watchers of the group, you plonk yourself down and reflect on the crazy week you’ve been having.

Oh how you wish you could still talk to your parents. But the memory of the last time you had tried was tainted by the appearance of that daemonic man.

The scaffolding starts rattling and you look down, half expecting to see him. But no, it’s Prompto.

“Heyaz.” he cheerfully smiles as he takes a seat next to you, letting his legs dangle off the edge as the mirror image of your posture. You smile back at him.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing all by herself?” he’s trying to lighten the tone but he has a sad look in his eyes.

Confirming what he must be thinking, you tell him what Dave had shown you.

“Mmm.” was all the gunslinger mumbled as he looked down at his lap.

You both sat there in silence and you hated it. He was normally so cheerful.

“Uhh...” you begin, and Prompto’s head snaps up so he can look at you.

“..... Sorry for.... ya know.... back there.” you wave your hand above your head, meaning to apologise for the scene your partner made.

“Ha, no worries. We deal with daemons, a drunk isn’t going to upset us!” There’s his smile again and relief washes over you so strongly it’s almost painful. You never wanted to be the reason anyone was sad.

“We’ve been.... unhappy for a while.” you croak out at him, the words feeling alien in your mouth. After being alone for so long, you had closed off from everyone. Not like you had anybody to confide in anyway.

Prompto doesn’t say anything, he just watches you with a kind smile.

Once you start you can’t stop. You tell him about how you and your partner always bicker, how you feel suffocated in that cage of an apartment, how alone you feel in the world and that’s why you had developed such an attachment to this place. You look him in the eyes as your own ones fill with tears, the sudden onslaught of emotion too much for you to bear after burying the pain for so long. You tell him how happy you are that you met him, what a difference he and Dave have made to your pitiful isolated life and how you would like to stay here and become a Hunter to repay the favour.

Prompto’s smile had been growing as you spoke, until the last part when he dropped his gaze again. You realise why. The Starscourge still didn't have a cure yet.

“I’m... scared.” you finally admit to him.

He reaches over and gives you a hug. Mumbling into his shoulder, you let your tears finally fall. When was the last time you had cried? You confide in him that you feel like it doesn’t matter that you are ill, life was hardly worth it these last few years anyway. You had been trudging along on autopilot, internalising all your pain and just getting on with it. His grip tightens on you and you feel him shake his head.

“A life is always worth it, nobody isn’t worth saving.” he says from where his head is resting near your ear. It sounded like his voice would break.

You were going to answer but shudders started rippling through you as your crying intensified. Years of sorrow coming out all at once, mixed with the strong feelings of gratitude to the blonde. Prompto just holds you and runs his hand over your back as a sign of reassurance and acceptance.

After a few minutes, you felt all cried out and... lighter. Like a huge pressure in your head and chest you didn’t know was there had finally been relieved.

You were the first to pull away, but Prompto kept his hand on your shoulder, your revelation still worrying him slightly.

You drop your gaze, suddenly very embarrassed you had unloaded all of your emotional drama onto him.

As you start mumbling an apology, you feel heat coming from close to your ear. You shut your eyes as butterflies start dancing in your stomach. What was Prompto doing?

Warm breath is tickling the shell of your ear and causing a blush to spread across your cheeks, you hear a soft inhale of breath.

“I can cure you of all this, little flower.” that cursed voice again!

You push off suddenly, causing Prompto’s hand to fly off your shoulder and he raises them both in a look of innocence.

“What’s wrong?” the young man questions, looking very concerned.

“Y-y-you.... my ear...” you can’t form a coherent sentence, panic has gripped you.

Where’s that daemonic man?!

“What’s happened to your ear, Miss?” he’s getting very worried now considering your recent diagnosis with the Starscourge.

You look at Prompto with an expression of utter fear that has him rising to his feet. You jump down off the scaffolding and make for the giant iron fence at the entrance.

“Whoa hey wait! Hold up!” he jumps down to follow but you’re already out the gate. Even if Hunters think it’s a bad idea, they’re not here to imprison civilians or stop them going where they want to in Eos.

But you’re already out. And heading back to Insomnia.

That daemon isn’t going to stop tormenting you. He admitted he’s waiting for you. He even said he could.... cure you.

What the hell have you got to lose?


	5. The Daemon Within

As you approached the gates leading to the wrecked city of Insomnia, Prompto catches up with you.

You turn and wait for him as he doubles over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath with a hand extended to you asking you to wait.

He stands up straight and is about to speak to you, fear clouding his features as he glances toward the ruined city. Even though you think highly of the blonde, you really want him to just leave you alone. Neither he nor the Hunters can help you, but maybe this stranger can.

Prompto opens his mouth to speak, but some daemonic cackling is heard behind him. He turns on his heel with his guns drawn as a mob of purple-skinned knee-high goblins tackle him. He expertly dispatches a handful of them with his killer aim, but more seem to be climbing out of the road.

He’s starting to panic. The more he shoots, the more goblins take their place. He’s circling around them but trying to remain in front of you in a protective manner. You’re rooted to the spot.

What can you do to help your friend? Panic’s rising in your gut and you’re getting fidgity, the booming of Prompto’s close-range gunshots ripping through your eardrums.

“Leave him my little flower, they won’t hurt him.”

The velvet voice is coming from behind you, but when you swing around there’s nobody there. Prompto doesn’t seem to have heard it either.

How could you possibly leave him?

“Leave him!” the daemonic voice was full of authority now, making you jump and look behind you once more.

“He will live. The Chosen King needs him.” comes the voice again, gentler this time.

Watching as the goblins overwhelm Prompto and one of the little buggars snatches his gun from his hand and runs off, you kick the closest one to you, watching it evaporate in a black mist. Fruitless maybe, but it made you feel better.

Prompto’s kicking and screaming a little now, because the goblins seem to be dragging him off rather than attempting to kill him. You make to follow.

“Aww his friends must miss him so. Let the little blighters return him to the Hunters. They are expendable after all. Come to me, my little flower.”

His disembodied voice has an almost hypnotic quality and you find yourself complying.

Turning your back on your screaming friend, you walk through the gates into Insomnia.

It’s just like the last time you were here, both in real life and in your nightmare. The darkness, the destroyed buildings...... but now there are daemons stalking the place.

You try to avoid them all, doing well up until a point checking behind corners and crouching down slightly so you can walk as quietly as possible. But then you quickened your pace and didn’t check a corner properly and walked straight into a vision from your nightmare.

The yellow-clad samurai with the scarred twisted face. Complete with the sword at his hip.

You let out a silent scream, but are baffled when he turns his back on you and continues his slow heavy walk down the alleyway.

What the hell....?

You decide not to hang around in case he changes his mind and take a different route. You have no idea where you would find that wine-haired daemon man but he knows where you would most likely go.

Your childhood home. So you head there for lack of any better ideas.

You continue to avoid the daemons as best you could, wondering if you won’t be so lucky if you come face-to-face with another one. But once you reach your childhood home you have to stay crouched behind the wall.

There was a massive snake in the way. With an oddly familiar grotesque female face. Crouched there, contemplating your next move, the snake seems to just slither off on her own accord. Oddly suspicious but you’ll take it.

Rising from your crouch you dart towards the destroyed remnant of your childhood.

As you make it to the fence, the very air around you becomes eeriely still. The scenery became slightly distorted as fog rose to obscure your view of the ground.

Despite the creepy circumstances, you feel hope rise in your heart.

Spinning around, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

Approaching you was the wine-haired demon man. WIth a normal human face and a kind smile.

“A-ha, you have returned to me, my flower.” he smiles to you.

You can’t help but smile back.

“You said you could.... cure me?” Your voice drops in volume as you finish your sentence, scarcely able to believe the words you were saying yourself.

“Oh yes my dear. I can make all of your pain go away.”

He stands very close to you, smiling down at you all the while.

“But first, you need to trust me.” His tone is more serious, but he was still smiling like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Wait..... what about...?” Your eyes cloud with worry.

“Your dear Prompto? The little gunman will be fine. I can’t hurt the Chosen King’s precious friends now can I?” He chuckles and it makes you feel a little silly for even worrying.

“Okay....” you answer the man. Looking up into his eyes, you try to force the most genuine smile you could.

Just like your last meeting, he reaches forward and cups your face in one of his hands and his face takes on the bleeding black ooze look again.

You try not to shiver or turn away at the sight. You need to prove to him you trust him - even if deep in your gut you know you shouldn’t.

“You’re struggling, my dear.” No nastiness, he says it as a normal observation. You decide honesty is the best policy.

“Yeah a little.... But if you’re the only one who can help me.... then I want to. I want to badly.”

He hums a little, then leans right into your face.

“Such a beautiful flower. Not at all as delicate as I first thought.” he whispers so close to your face.

His is repulsively alluring, and you find yourself enjoying his musky scent.

“Leaving your beloved, leaving your friends, preferring to come and speak to the dead.” The man is saying it in an amused tone, as if he finds the state of your life amusing.

“You’re not dead!” you shoot back at his defensively, ignoring the urge to pull away from him. Instead you keep your arms pinned to your sides.

His eyes widen in myrth and he leans so close your noses touch and his warm breath dances across your face. To your credit, you don’t flinch.

“But you wish to be.” Then he flashes you a cruel smile.

That’s it. You instinctively step back but to no avail, he has hold of your face.

“Why else did you come back? Why else would you prefer to converse with the dead? Why else would you allow a daemon to infect you? Why else would you return to consort with me?”

His icy fingers increade their grip on your face, his fingertips sinking painfully into your soft cheeks preventing you from speaking.

He takes another step closer, and another, until you’re pinned to the fence behind you again. You remember this scene well. And so does he.

Just like before, he leans in and presses an ice cold kiss to your lips again.

Far from being a chaste kiss like before, his tongue invades your mouth and the gloopy icy-cold ooze spreads into your mouth. Try as you might, it’s physically impossible to pull away and the man knows it. He chuckles into your mouth, fear rippling up your spine as the ooze slides down your throat and you swallow it involuntarily.

You shudder and try to twist away as you feel the icy substance work it’s way down your throat and down to your stomach. The daemon’s mouth still upon yours so your protests are completely muffled by his kiss, his tongue still owning every inch of your mouth as the coldness invades every cell inside you and everything’s starting to go numb.

Your legs give out, but the daemon has you pinned to the fence. You’re not going anywhere. His hands make their way to your hips and he has a firm grasp on you as your body starts spasming, you’re not even in control of your mouth anymore so he’s just kissing you for his own perverse pleasure.

You’re ice cold. If you weren’t thinking, you’d be convinced you had died. You couldn’t even feel the daemon violating your mouth anymore.

But now it feels like your insides are.... moving?

You just hang there, pinned to the fence in the daemon’s embrace as your body does whatever it wants. He holds you close and it helps minimise your spasming, but he isn’t doing it because he cares. He’s chuckling into your ear, his stubble scraping along your cheek.

“Come to me, my flower.”

You’re changing. Things are getting longer, your body’s moving of it’s own accord. Only once you let out an inhumane scream does the daemon man let go of you as you crash to the floor, in the grip of another spasm.

What the hell is that?

It’s like a giant insectoid leg stretching towards you. No not towards you.

FROM you.

Your vision’s starting to fade, and you can see these extra limbs of yours moving by themselves. So this is what Dave’s book meant by ‘transformations’.

You were in the midst of transforming into a daemon, with the daemon man standing over you watching your pain with that cruel smile.

“Arise my Ariadne, I need you. The Chosen must be strong enough to face me in the Citadel. I need you and the others to give him one more test before I unleash the Infernian upon them!”

Your body rises on alien limbs at the daemon man’s command just as your vision goes black.


End file.
